Roots and Reflection
by tie-dye-flag
Summary: (Bowtie AU fanfic) Mirrors, or any sort of reflective surface, encourage us to reflect our appearance and who we are. And that's exactly what the teenage Hero did. Reflected over her identity and the unsightly roots infecting her arms. She pondered over the painful truth affecting her body and mind.


**I do not own The Property of Hate nor the characters.**

**The Bowtie AU belongs to Kirarts on tumblr.**

**AN: If you're not familiar with the Bowtie AU, then you can find the blog about it on tumblr by searching "bowtie au". I'd provide a link to it (and the asktpohbowtieau blog too) but FFN doesn't allow links in fanfics. Ah, well...**

* * *

><p>Trees with geometric leaves stretched towards the hazy lilac sky. Countless blades of pale brown grass surrounded their roots and trunks. The forest looked like it belonged in a surrealist painter's masterpiece. There was one thing that did <em>not<em> resemble the rest of the environment, however; a human walking between the trees. The short brown hair and bamboo cane made it easy to mistake the traveler's gender at a glance. However, the narrow shoulders and wide hips revealed the truth; this person clad in a red trench coat was female. One could describe her as a young woman, but the circles under her eyes and solemn expression plastered on her face betrayed her true age of sixteen. Or maybe fifteen. No one really knew the answer, not even the girl herself. She had forgotten that long ago.

Tied around her neck was a gaudy rainbow bowtie that poorly matched her attire. Saturated with the colors on a TV test channel, it dripped with equally bright ink, mysteriously not staining the teenager's orange turtleneck.

"…Hero."

The brunette continued her walk, ignoring the low male voice from her neckwear

"…Hero. Say something."

Her lips twitched at the corners.

"…Hero, snap out of-"

"You know, I really miss your mute dial." She huffed.

"I beg your pardon, young lady?!" The bowtie jerked slightly into a tight, downward arch, like a frown. "Well, in that case, _I_ really miss the days when you were only a _little_-"

Hero raised an eyebrow.

"…Never mind." He mumbled. "So…what next?"

"What do you mean by that?" Hero spun the cane between her fingers before resting it on her shoulders, faking a laid back attitude.

"I mean…well …where are we going?"

"To the nearest motel."

"Mind sparing us your sarcasm and answering my question?"

"Heh heh," The girl half heartedly chuckled. "Looks like your influence rubbed off on me in more ways than one."

"…"

"Anyway, we're going to the nearest lake or river."

"…Ah, of course." The tips of his bow grew slack, knowing the routine that would always follow that line.

But he should have expected it. Her cheeks were crusted over with a thin layer of filth, and her untidy hair hung lifelessly on her head. She needed a bath before they set out for their search (again). However, her body wasn't the only thing in need of a wash. Her green rain boots, softly crunching with every step in the grass, sported ugly stains of what could be passed off as mud.

After all, dried blood shares a close resemblance to dried mud.

Hero came to the edge of a small cliff that overlooked a turquoise lake, no more than ten meters in diameter. Rust colored trees surrounded the shore, shielding the cool water from the rest of the world.

"This should do it." The girl took a step backwards to a tree, undid her bowtie friend, and gently hung him off of the lowest branch.

"…remember when I first did this?" Hero murmured to RGB.

"Must you _always_ bring that up?" He grumbled. "…of course I do."

"First you freaked out that you were going to get wet, even though now you can get as soaked as a sponge and be fit as a fiddle."

"W-w-well, old habits die hard." He muttered, trying to remain cool. "What can I say?"

Hero chuckled as she hung the cane on the same branch. "Then you babbled on and on about how 'a young lady needs her privacy' and-"

"Why don't you hurry up with your bath already?!" The piece of cloth barked impatiently. "You've got better things to do than humiliate me."

"Alright, alright, don't get your threads in a bunch." Hero shrugged while fiddling with a yellow and mint beaded chain attached to her coat. She unfastened it from her clothes and reached into the pocket where the rest of the chain disappeared. Her yellow gloved hand pulled out a pocket watch with a mysterious S symbol on the cover. Pinching at the lid's switch, the cover flipped open, but instead of revealing a miniature clock, it revealed a familiar pink eye with long black lashes.

"Don't worry, Hero." It purred. "Take your time. I'll make sure Mr. Rainbow here stays out of trouble."

RGB growled lowly.

"Thanks, Madras." Hero smiled as she hung the pocket watch on the same branch, next to the growling RGB. She waved as she walked away, saying, "I won't be long guys. Don't kill each other while I'm gone."

The teen jumped off of the six foot tall cliff and approached the shore of the lake. She bent over and stared at her reflection dancing atop the cool water. Her red trench coat reminded her of the jacket she wore when she first embarked with RGB so many years ago. She pressed her hands against her yellow trousers, matching her thick gardening gloves.

Hero sat on the ground and pulled off her boots. Ugh, the blood stains really did look hideous. No way was she going to convince another kid to be a 'hero' with such grimy footwear. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a blue striped handkerchief and dipped it into the water. Once damp, she scrubbed the cloth vigorously against her boots, watching the blood disappear.

However, it did not disappear from her memory. No amount of scrubbing would fix that.

The blood.

The tears.

The screams.

Hero shook her head lightly, as if this would be sufficient enough to rid her of these memories. She blinked, finding her boots now perfectly clean, and her handkerchief now perfectly filthy. The girl's focus shifted to her gloves and the rest of her outfit. It puzzled her how this time no stains were found on her clothes; they had somehow dodged the dirty fate.

Taking a deep breath, she peeled off her jacket, revealing the long sleeves of her orange sweater. After removing a pair of handheld gardening shears from one of the jacket's pockets, she neatly folded the jacket into a square, and set it down on the ground. The girl's fingers curled around the edges of her shirt, hesitating for a long, long minute.

She bit her lip as she lifted the turtleneck over her head and off of her body. With the shirt in her hands, she glumly stared at her bare arms, now unmasked to the world. Patches of rough bark spotted the tanned skin like some kind of infection. A few of the bizarre blemishes sprouted tiny roots or leaves like miniature trees.

The girl picked up her gardening sheers and cut off the branches from her arms. Every cold, crisp snip sent equally cold, crisp shocks of pain through her. However, she barely flinched at this familiar pain; she did not even bat an eye.

This was a routine known only to her. Hero was careful to only 'tidy up' her arms away from prying eyes, or when her company was sleeping (hence the sleep depraved circles under her eyes).

Once satisfied with her work, she removed her pants and undergarments, placing them on top of her jacket, and then plopping her shears on top of those. Hero dipped her large toe into the water, then her foot, followed by the rest of her body up to her neck.

For a moment the sixteen year old simply stared into space. Then she took an exaggerated gulp of air and dunked her head under. Behind the dark of her shut eyes, she felt the fluid water wrap and ripple around her face. The lake ran its flowing fingers through her brown hair, making it dance like seaweed. Hero released a few bubbles of air from her lips, enjoying how peaceful the world sounded with water in her ears.

Here there were no screams. No words. No feelings.

What she'd give to have gills.

Eventually her lungs felt tight, and pleaded for fresh oxygen. Hero thrust her head up and gasped, letting her senses rush back to her. As she panted, she brought her arms out of the water, eyeing the roots within her skin.

"Where will you spread to next…?" Hero whispered.

Her hands? Then she wouldn't be able to cut them off with her secret sheers (maybe).

Maybe her legs? Then she wouldn't be able to run or jump (probably).

Or perhaps her face? Then she wouldn't be able to hide the truth (definitely).

"Oh god, please not there…" She cringed, hugging herself. But it was a legitimate possibility. Her roots could grow wherever on her body they pleased…right? Hero's eyebrows furrowed, wishing there existed a textbook about her…_predicament_…with all the answers. It's not like she could just waltz into the nearest library and check out _How to Stop Your Transformation into a Monster in 105 Easy Steps_.

Wait…what if her roots weren't limited to the outside? What if they spread into her joints? Her lungs? Her private parts?

"U-ugh…" She shivered. Okay, that last one was perverted, not to mention downright weird.

_"…what if it grows into my brain…? Can it do that…?"_

Hero held her breath as the idea sank in.

_"…or has it already done so…?"_

Her shivering hands feverishly slapped water onto her pale face. After a few hasty splashes, she pressed her hands to her face, covering her eyes. Hero's shoulders tensed and relaxed as she took slow, shaky breaths.

"…"

The girl uneasily peeked between her fingers to the shiny surface of the water, staring at the reflection of her coffee brown eyes, her chestnut colored hair, and her caramel tanned complexion.

Of all the colors in existence, brown held a soft spot in her heart. It seemed to be the only thing truly constant with her. It was also the only thing left of her past as a typical kid born and raised in Manchester. Her memory held no recollection of her parents, home, or name.

Hero.

That was her name now. That's all she was, and all she will be.

The teen quietly bathed herself, pretending not to notice how rough the bark on her arms felt. Everywhere else her hands slid over smooth skin or wet hair. As she dried off with a spare towel she kept crammed in the largest pocket of her coat, she glanced at her reflection of her naked self one last time. With the towel hiding her root-ridden arms, she looked like a healthy young maiden, the kind artists aspire to paint pictures of. But when she tossed the damp towel aside, her arms projected her ugly secret that would make any painter flee with blank canvas in hand.

She slid back into her undergarments and clothes while holding a staring contest with an imaginary pair of eyes in the distance. The girl refused to take another glance at her arms until she had thrust them through her jacket's sleeves. After shoving her feet into her green boots, she stood up and stretched.

Hero retraced her steps to the cliff and leaped up to the ledge with open hands. Her gardening gloves gripped onto the hard soil and hoisted her body up.

"Damn," She lowly hissed through her teeth. "This would be a lot easier with the cane…"

Whenever referring to the cane, she commonly used _the_ cane. Not her cane, nor _his_ cane. It did not belong to her. Nothing did. Not even her trademark red jacket-it was a loaner from Madras. The only thing she could truly call her own was her mind, slowly deteriorating with unsightly blemishes, just like her arms.

Hero stood up on the cliff, brushing the dust from her pants. There wasn't time to dilly-dally; her bowtie and pocket watch were waiting. Trying to relax her facial features, she mechanically walked away.


End file.
